


Enraptured Writer

by imel



Category: Real Person Fiction, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fanfiction, Smut, Writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-08-23 14:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20244010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imel/pseuds/imel
Summary: Writing fanfiction was your guilty pleasure, but it was definitely not meant to be shared with certain people -- specifically, people named Tom Holland.





	1. Chapter 1

Your best friend was drunk as a skunk and had wandered off somewhere in the pub. She probably should have stopped a few drinks ago, but you didn’t want to ruin her fun. It wasn’t often she let loose.

You were the designated driver and nursing your soda while you sat at the bar. This sort of place wasn’t usually your scene. 

You decided to use your phone to write while you had the free time, and your muse was finally cooperating. You’d promised your readers you were going to update one of your series, and it was finally getting to the good part.

Writing reader insert fanfiction was one of your guilty pleasures. In real life, only your best friend knew your dirty little secret, and she’d been great for helping you with ideas.

You were completely engrossed in writing a very steamy chapter of a fic about Tom Holland, happily tapping away at your phone, when someone touched your shoulder.

“Hey!” your best friend said entirely too loud by your ear. “Look who I found!”

You jumped, startled, and turned around.

Your best friend was dragging an also obviously drunk guy by the arm. It took you approximately three seconds to realize it was Tom Holland.

She glanced down at your phone and saw the document you’d been using for your fic opened. “Oh my god, she’s writing another story!” She turned to Tom, grinning. “She writes the best stories about you!”

Before you could stop her, she grabbed your phone and thrust it at Tom. “Look!”

“No, don’t look!” you exclaimed, trying to get your phone back.

You watched, completely frozen in horror, as Tom started to read what was on the screen.

“Holy shit,” he said to himself more than either of you, expression unreadable.

You just stood there, feeling your face burn as you blushed, while your oblivious best friend got distracted by the bartender and getting another drink she definitely did not need.

“Tom!” a guy called from across the bar. “We’re leaving!”

“Wait a second, bro!” he called back. 

You watched him tap at your screen for a few moments and hand it back to you.

“I’ve gotta go with my mates. It was nice meeting you,” he said, and if you weren’t mistaken, he winked at you.

You made a point of not looking to see what Tom had done on your phone. There were a lot of possibilities, and most of the ones that went through your mind were varying degrees of awful.

“Where did Tom go?” your best friend asked.

“He had to leave,” you replied, “and so should we. It’s getting late, and you’ve had more than enough to drink.”

“You’re no fun,” she said petulantly, but went with you when you led her out of the bar.

The drive back to your place was fortunately uneventful. Your best friend chattered about a cute guy she met who wanted to see her again, and she didn’t bring up Tom again, which you were grateful for.

After you managed to get her up the stairs, you settled your best friend into your spare bedroom, leaving her a glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand for her inevitable hangover. At least she had the weekend to recover.

When you got into your bedroom, you finally looked at your phone, biting your lip nervously.

Your text messaging app was open, and he’d sent an eggplant emoji, followed by a winking emoji to the contact he created for himself in your phone.

You laughed, but hoped he wouldn’t remember what led up to it. He’d been pretty drunk, so the odds were in your favor. It’d be easy enough to lie and play dumb if he asked you about it in the morning.

Having Tom Holland’s phone number and wishing you didn’t was not a situation you expected yourself to ever be in.

You sighed as you plugged your phone in to charge overnight and got into bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Your dreams were unsurprisingly full of Tom Holland the night after your chance meeting in the pub.

You woke up with the dull, insistent ache of arousal between your legs. Before you dealt with that, you immediately checked your phone.

Although you wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, not even your best friend, a part of you was disappointed that Tom hadn’t sent you a text. The rest was relieved that he’d probably blacked out the entire incident and wondered who the fuck sent him random emojis at 1am.

Your best friend was drunk enough that she probably wouldn’t remember meeting Tom at all, so it would be your secret to take to your grave. And it would probably be better that way.

Now, to the more pressing issue at hand. You knew your best friend would still be dead to the world for hours, so you got out your favorite battery-operated boyfriend and lay back with fantasies of Tom running through your mind.

You decided to try something new, to test out the ‘what if’ scenario of not being interrupted at the bar. What if instead of leaving with his friends, he left with you?

Maybe what he’d read had turned him on, and he was desperate enough with want that he’d pin you against the brick wall in the dim light of the alley behind the pub. After he told you that you had to be quiet so no one would catch you, his lips would meet yours roughly. He’d dominate the kiss, taking what he wanted, and you’d happily give it to him. When you whimpered into his mouth, trying to move against him, he’d press his leg between your thighs to give you the friction you needed. You’d be able to feel his-

Your phone pinged with the sound of a text message notification, snapping you out of your fantasy.

“It couldn’t be,” you said softly to yourself and tried to leave your phone alone, telling yourself it was probably something like an automated bill pay message and not worth checking until you were done. The curiosity was too much for you, though. “Fuck it.”

You grabbed your phone to check who had texted you.

**Tom**: _What are you up to this morning?_

“God,” you groaned. “Of course.”

Instead of stopping what you were in the middle of, you typed a quick reply. It felt delightfully naughty to text him while your vibrator was still buzzing away inside you.

**You**: _Wouldn’t you like to know? :wink:_

His response came less than a minute later.

**Tom**: _Are you writing more? :smirk:_

So, he did actually remember. You weren’t sure how you felt about that, but you could think about it later when you weren’t over halfway to what looked to be a mind-blowing orgasm.

**You**: _Not right now. Why? Did you want me to be? :wink:_

Your pleasure emboldened you. You’d probably be horrified by your replies after you finished, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care yet.

**Tom**: _Maybe. You should send me more to read. :sweat_drops:_

He actually wanted to read more? You were shocked.

You bit your lower lip in contemplation. Who were you to deny Tom fucking Holland what he wanted, especially when what he wanted was to read what amounted to your fantasies about him?

You paused to pull up your Google Docs, browsing for something you weren’t entirely ashamed of that was definitely on the tamer side, not wanting to scare him off.

After taking a deep breath, you shared the link with him before you could second guess yourself too much. Now you knew you’d definitely be horrified later, but later wasn’t now.

**Tom**: _Thanks darling. :wink:_

You swooned a bit over him calling you ‘darling’ and hoped you’d maybe get to actually hear him say it to you someday.

Tom was fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you viewed it, quiet after that.

You brought yourself to a few separate intense climaxes, fantasizing about Tom lying in his bed reading your writing while he fucked his fist, imagining the scenarios you’d written about him with you as the protagonist. The best thing about fantasies was that they didn’t have to be realistic.

By the time you were finished getting yourself off, your body was damp with sweat, and you really needed to change the sheets.

Tom hadn’t sent any more messages, but maybe he was busy reading. You hoped he was.

You left your phone in the bedroom while you hopped in the shower, spending more time than you usually did just enjoying the warm spray against your bare skin.

When you got back to your bedroom, you checked your phone again. Still no additional replies.

You tried not to be a bit disappointed, and instead busied yourself with getting dressed and putting a set of fresh sheets on your bed.

Your phone stayed by your side while you checked on your best friend, who was still fast asleep, and headed down to make something for breakfast. You half paid attention to an episode of something you’d already watched on Netflix while you ate.

Your best friend eventually wandered down the stairs.

“Kill me now,” she groaned.

“I told you last night you were going to hate yourself today, but you didn’t listen,” you told her.

“I should listen to you more often.” She plopped down next to you on the couch, rubbing her forehead.

“Do you even remember last night?” you asked, mostly wondering if she remembered the part with Tom.

“Parts of it? It’s kind of a blur,” she replied. “I think I made out with some hot guy I met for a while, but I’m not sure.”

You wondered if the ‘hot guy’ was Tom, and felt momentarily jealous, but she probably would have remembered that.

“So, what did you do while I was off having fun anyway?”

“Just played on my phone,” you responded, not mentioning the writing in case it jogged her memory.

“You do that a lot,” she commented. “You pretty much live on Tumblr.”

“I do,” you agreed. “It’s the best place to fangirl.”

You hadn’t looked at Tumblr since the previous night, so you grabbed your phone to open the app, checking your notifications first. 

You had a new follower with a completely blank blog, not even an icon, who had recently liked well over a dozen of your Tom Holland reader insert chapters, oneshots and blurbs. Weird, but it was nice to have people appreciate your work.

“Speaking of Tumblr, are you going to do any writing this weekend?” your best friend asked.

You shrugged. “Probably. I’m almost done with a new chapter for one of my series right now, and I had an idea for a blurb that might be long enough to make it into oneshot territory.”

“Ooooh! Tell me your idea!” she said, excitedly.


	3. Chapter 3

You ended up writing the rest of a chapter for one of your series, and after it got the stamp of approval from your best friend, you posted it. You’d work on the blurb or possible oneshot later. There was no rush.

The afternoon went by quickly and turned into early evening while you binged Netflix and hung out with your best friend. It was just a typical weekend. 

Your phone stayed by your side just in case, but Tom didn’t send you another text. You were pretty sure you’d scared him off. It made you a little sad, but you hadn’t expected anything to come of it anyway.

Not that you’d ever tell anyone, but you could say that Tom Holland read your fanfiction. Most writers couldn’t say that. Probably. The thought of him secretly scouring the internet for fanfiction about himself made you giggle to yourself.

You received an ask on Tumblr from the blank blog who liked literally every last one of your Tom Holland fanfiction posts over the course of the day. You opened it, expecting it to be the usual reader request, but it wasn’t.

**2738 N Park Ave, 308. 7:30pm.**

You checked the address on Google, and it was a hotel not terribly far from where you lived. Although you knew you’d casually mentioned the city you live in a few times on your blog in response to comments and asks, you hadn’t expected anyone to really notice or care, and especially not get a hotel room near you and tell you to go there. What the fuck.

You stared at it for a while, but didn’t reply.

Your best friend hadn’t left yet. You told her about what had just happened.

“Dude, that sounds like some straight up serial killer shit,” she commented.

“I know, but god, I’m kind of curious?” you admitted.

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re actually considering going?!?”

“Maybe? I really want to know who it is and why,” you told her. “I don’t handle mysteries well, and this is a huge fucking mystery.”

“Fine. You’ve supported me through a lot of bad decisions over the years. I’ll come up with you and make sure you aren’t going to get murdered by your obsessive fan. The things I do for you.” She was smiling as she rolled her eyes.

“Thank you,” you said. “I’ve got about an hour to get ready before we need to leave.”

“Make yourself look cute,” she suggested. “It could be a hot guy.”

“Probably not, but it wouldn’t hurt,” you said, laughing.

You wore one of your favorite dresses that you knew looked amazing on you and got ready as quickly as you could while still taking the time to shave, in case it was a hot guy and things headed in that direction. A girl could dream.

You grew increasingly nervous as the clock ticked toward 7:30. After you were as ready as you could get, you headed downstairs.

“You look great!” your best friend said as you walked into the room. “If it is a hot guy, he’ll be totally into you.”

“Thanks!” you said. “It’s a little early, but I want to go now. I really need to know! This is seriously driving me crazy.”

“I’ll drive,” she offered. “You’d probably get us pulled over for speeding.”

“Probably,” you agreed.

The GPS guided you to the hotel. It was a decent chain one, not fancy by any means, but it looked clean and well-maintained from the outside. It didn’t seem like the sleazy sort of place people who were up to no good would stay.

“It’s 7:13,” you said after your best friend parked near the entrance. “Should we wait or head up early?”

“It’s 15 minutes. Your mystery fan is probably already up there waiting for you.” She shrugged.

“Let’s go,” you decided.

You were jittery with nerves as you walked together through the lobby and got into the elevator to go up to the third floor. Room 308 was at the end of a long hall that felt even longer as you walked down it.

“God, I can’t believe I’m doing this. What the fuck is wrong with me?” you asked.

“I’m not even sure where to start with that,” she teased.

You lifted your hand to knock on the door.

“Wait a second!” a masculine voice called from within, muffled.

“Oooh, maybe it is a hot guy!” your best friend said.

The door opened several moments later to reveal Tom, most definitely a hot guy, but not at all who you expected.

The three of you stood there staring at each other in shocked silence.

“You didn’t come alone,” he commented eventually.

“You sent me a message on Tumblr after liking everything I wrote about you! I thought you might be an obsessive serial killer! Why didn’t you just text me like a normal human being?” you pointed out.

“Wait a second, you’ve been texting Tom Holland and didn’t fucking tell me?!?” your best friend exclaimed, eyes wide.

“You were the one who gave him my phone and let him read the fic I was writing while you were drunk last night!” you said.

“I did what?” she asked.

“My mate Harrison wants your number, by the way,” Tom said to your best friend.

“Oh! That was his name! The guy I made out with!” She was obviously very pleased.

“I’m so confused right now,” you said to no one in particular.

“Phone,” Tom said, reaching his hand out to your best friend.

You watched upside down as he entered a new contact on her phone.

“Go have fun with Haz,” he told her. “He doesn’t have any plans tonight and has been nattering on about you all fucking day. I promise I’m not a serial killer. I’ll take very good care of your friend after you leave.”

“I’m sure you will,” your best friend said suggestively.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, blushing.

“Now, you,” Tom said as he gently grabbed your arm, “come inside.”

After he moved you into the room behind him, he told your best friend, “And you, go bother Harrison. I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Then, he closed the door and turned to you.


	4. Chapter 4

You nervously bit your lower lip as you and Tom looked at each other silently, waiting for the other to speak.

You swallowed heavily before you finally spoke. “Did you Google what I sent you to find the rest on my Tumblr?”

“Yeah,” he answered simply.

“And you actually read all of it?”

“I did,” he replied.

“Why?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, at first, I was quite curious. I also didn’t mind having my ego stroked a bit, which you did plenty of, by the way. After that, I liked the stories, and the sex scenes were…” He paused, considering, before finishing with, “intriguing.”

‘Intriguing’ wasn’t really the adjective you’d really been going for. You would’ve preferred ‘hot’ or ‘sexy,’ but it was better than some others like ‘disgusting’ or ‘awful,’ or some variation of ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’

“Thank you?” you responded, a bit uncertain. 

“You’re welcome,” he said.

You fidgeted nervously. “Not that I don’t want to spend time with you, but why did you ask me to come here?”

“I want to play a game,” he told you, eyes mischievously glinting.

You immediately recognized the line from ‘Saw’ and laughed. “I thought you said you weren’t a serial killer.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, not that sort of game. Anyway, because I asked you to play, you can go first. Pick a scene you’ve written.”

You weren’t entirely sure where he was going with this. “What am I picking it for? A dramatic reading?”

“Role-playing,” he responded.

“You want to act out my writing?” you asked, incredulously.

“Yeah. I’ve already picked my first few scenes,” he said.

Your eyes widened. “Wait, your first _few_? You want to do this more than once?”

“That was the general idea, yeah,” he responded with a shrug.

“I just..._you_ want to have sex with _me_?” As much as you tried, you couldn’t quite process that.

He took your hand and pressed it to the front of his athletic pants, his obvious erection warm against your hand. “What do you think?”

“Oh my god,” you said to yourself, dropping your hand down subconsciously, unable to believe what had happened. “I just touched your dick.”

“And I’d like you to touch it more. Pick a scene,” he encouraged, obviously amused by how flustered you were.

“Give me a second,” you said. “You kind of put me on the spot here.”

You tried to remember everything you’d written, hell, even just something you’d written, but your overwhelmed mind was blank.

“Can you help?” you eventually asked, face feeling hot with the blush crossing it.

“You’re adorable,” he commented, laughing softly. He held out his arms. “Come here.”

You stepped forward into his arms and buried your reddened face in his shoulder, deeply inhaling his scent as you sighed against him. “You smell really good,” you mumbled into his shirt.

His chest rumbled against your face when he quietly laughed. “Thanks. I really did put you on the spot, though. We don’t have to play the game, if you don’t want to. I did assume that you actually wanted to live out your writing, and if that’s not the case, I’m sorry. We can just hang out for a while before I take you home.”

“No, I want to,” you quickly said, certain of that fact. “I just wasn’t in a million years expecting this. I thought I scared you off because you never texted me back.”

“You didn’t,” he reassured you. “I honestly got so into reading what you’ve written that I forgot to, and then after I’d read everything, I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, I’m definitely surprised,” you confirmed. “When I was imagining while I wrote, I thought I’d already on my knees for you or something, not hiding my face against you because I can’t stop blushing.”

“I don’t mind. I think it’s cute,” he commented, sweetly kissing the top of your head. “We have plenty of time for you to get it out of your system.”

“Can we lie down?” you asked, peering up at him.

He smiled. “Trying to get me into bed now?”

“Something like that,” you replied.

“I have no objections.”

You reluctantly let go of him so you could move over to the bed. After he lay down, you crawled up to join him. You hesitated for a moment before pushing your dress up to swing a leg over him and wrap yourself around him.

He started absentmindedly playing with your hair, fingers running through it and brushing it out of your face. It was very calming.

You could feel him pressed against your leg, still hard. The initial panic and embarrassment had mostly faded and were replaced by an increasingly desperate want for him.

It wasn’t a scene from anything you’d written, at least not as far as you remembered, but you straddled him and ground your hips against his, clad only in a skimpy pair of panties below the waist.

He sharply inhaled and tugged you down into a heated kiss.

You let him dominate the kiss, his tongue quickly finding its way past your parted lips, brushing against yours and exploring your mouth. He was definitely a good and thorough kisser. You weren’t surprised.

After you’d made out for a while with his fingers buried in your hair, his hands moved from your head down to grab your ass, palming it through the lace.

You moaned into his mouth when he slipped his fingers between your folds from behind, pushing your panties aside to press two fingers into you.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily. He wetly kissed his way over to your ear, nipping the lobe before soothing it with his tongue. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked, darling,” he said softly.

His thumb found your clit. Moments later, you were shuddering with a powerful orgasm, hips involuntarily rolling against his hand.

You would’ve been embarrassed by how little it took to make you climax if the intense pleasure hadn’t completely overwhelmed you.

His thumb and fingers worked you until the aftershocks subsided, and you were too sensitive to continue.

You spent quite some time recovering from the intensity of your orgasm, collapsed on top of him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“What would you like to do now?” he eventually asked.

“I think the obvious answer to that question is you,” you replied, kissing him again because you could. That was still strange, but definitely not unwelcome.

“I assumed as much. Would you like me to finger you some more, eat you, something else?”

“All of the above, and more?” you responded, wondering if he was as good at everything as he was at what you’d tried so far.

He chuckled.

“I definitely want to get my hands and mouth on you, too. And get you in me, of course,” you added. “What about the game?”

He smiled. “We can save the game until we get better acquainted, and we can do all of those things, if you insist.”

“Okay. I do insist,” you said. “What comes first?”

“Hopefully you, several more times,” he teased.

You laughed. “Thank you for being a generous lover, by the way. You could get away with being as selfish as you wanted, but you didn’t.”

“It’s not entirely selfless,” he admitted. “I also get off on getting girls off. The way you cum is really hot to me. It’s a bit embarrassing, but I’ve cum accidentally before while pleasuring a girl. Kind of just did with you.”

“You did?” you asked, feeling sexier than you ever had before, knowing that you had that much of an effect on him.

“Yeah, I did. You’ll have to give me a little bit before you get to have fun with my dick, but my hands and mouth are still on offer until then.”

“Okay, yeah, let’s do that,” you agreed, feeling yourself growing wetter at just the thought of his hands and mouth on you.

You rolled off of him and tried to hide how excessively eager you were as you tugged your dress over your head.


	5. Chapter 5

You discarded your dress on the floor, bra and panties quickly joining it, before you could overthink it. If he wasn’t actually into you, he wouldn’t have let things progress as far as they had, right?

Tom was still lying there, obviously checking you out and liking what he saw, which was a major relief. His lips were slightly parted, and he ran his tongue over them subconsciously.

Your heart beat faster in your chest at his stare.

“I think you’re overdressed for the occasion,” you eventually commented, a bit shyly.

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, glancing down at himself as if he’d forgotten he was wearing clothes at all.

You wondered if you’d had that effect on him, if you were making him as deeply aroused as he was making you. You questioned for the hundredth time how this was even your life.

He stood to quickly strip off his shirt, pants, and boxers, not making a show of it.

It was your turn to check him out. He had muscle, and lots of it. You definitely didn’t need that to find a guy attractive, but it was a good look on him. There was so much smooth skin that you think would look pretty marked up by your mouth, if he let you. You hoped he’d let you.

He wasn’t hard again yet, but you intended to change that soon.

You crawled across the bed toward him as seductively as you could, grabbing him by the hips and tugging him close to the edge.

“What are you-” he started asking, before you mouthed at his soft dick wetly. “Oh, you’re doing that.”

He didn’t sound displeased, so you continued to lick and suck on him, hand reaching down to gently play with his balls. You followed your hand down with your mouth.

“Fuck,” he moaned, tangling his fingers in your hair.

You were pleased to discover he was hardening back up nicely and took his dick back in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head and sucking on him. It didn’t take a lot for him to reach full hardness again.

He wasn’t huge, and you were glad for that. It definitely gave you more options to work with. 

Pulling back from him, you glanced up through your lashes and told him, “you can fuck my mouth, if you want.”

“Fuck yes,” he agreed and tightened his fingers in your hair to work your mouth over his dick, gradually going deeper as he got more into it.

You moved your hand between your legs, finding your already slick clit and rubbing it, groaning in pleasure around his dick.

“What?” he asked, looking down to see what you were doing. “I’m getting close. I want to wait until you cum before I do.”

You sped up the motion of your fingers, trying desperately to get there before he did. When your climax hit, you pushed your head forward to take him into your throat, swallowing around him to encourage him to chase his own completion.

He cried out your name, among a steady stream of profanity in that delicious accent of his, as he spilled down your throat. You swallowed again, the salty and slightly bitter taste on the back of your tongue.

The lack of oxygen made the experience particularly heady, your vision eventually going swimmy.

After his orgasm subsided, he pulled back, and you took in several deep gulps of air, grateful to have access to oxygen again.

“Thank you,” he said, affectionately running a thumb over your cheek and down to trace your swollen lips.

“Anytime,” you responded, but your voice was completely wrecked.

He winced. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s all good,” you reassured him. “No regrets here.”

“Let me make it up to you, love,” he offered, moving you around on the bed like you weighed nothing, and god, was that a turn on.

He put your legs over his shoulders and got between your thighs. His tongue slipped between your folds, and then he pulled back. “Fuck, you’re soaked. Is all this for me?”

“Definitely all for you. You don’t seem to know how hot you are, and I’ve been fantasizing about this for years,” you admitted quietly.

He chuckled. “Well, I hope I don’t disappoint.”

Before you could respond, he dived in and circled your clit with his tongue. Two fingers pushed into you. He thrust them in and out wetly, your slick making it embarrassingly easy.

“Oh my god, Tom,” you moaned, unable to help rolling your hips against his face as you chased after another orgasm.

He pulled back again. “Love the way you say my name, darling.”

“I’m so close. Please don’t stop,” you begged.

His tongue and fingers started working you again, quicker this time, and he flicked his tongue against your clit several times.

That was it for you.

“Tom, Tom, oh my fucking god, Tom,” you cried out, toes curling and gently tugging his curls.

As your climax subsided, he slowed down, eventually stopping when it was too much. He wiped his face off on his arm and crawled up on top of you.

His lips met yours in a surprisingly heated kiss that he deepened almost immediately. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, bittersweet, but you didn’t mind.

Your tongues started to fight for dominance, but you acquiesced and let him take over the kiss.

You made out unhurriedly until you felt his erection rubbing against your stomach.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily.

“Can we?” you asked, not finishing the sentence.

“Yeah, I want to fuck you,” he responded and climbed off of you and the bed. “Just need to grab a rubber.”

He pulled one out of his duffel bag, tearing open the package and rolling it down his length.

You spread your legs, reaching out to invite him to settle between them again.

He took you up on your invitation and lined himself up with your entrance. “Ready, love?” 

“Whenever you are,” you responded, heart racing in your chest.

He pushed forward and sunk into you in one long thrust, filling you up nicely.

“You feel so good inside me,” you told him.

“You feel amazing. So tight, and hot, and wet,” he commented as he started moving. “I could fuck you forever.”

“And I wouldn’t stop you.” You groaned as he hit a particularly good spot with his dick, and he made a point of hitting that spot every time he could.

His hips smacked against yours in quick thrusts, and soon neither one of you could talk.

You moaned into each other’s mouths in something that you could barely call a kiss, all tongues, and teeth, and desperation.

He snaked a hand between your bodies to find your clit and started rubbing around it with two fingers, teasing, then giving you what you needed, and frustrating the hell out of you by just teasing again.

You pulled your mouth back from his. “Please, Tom,” you whimpered.

“Shhh, I’ve got you, darling,” he reassured you, and finally completely stopped teasing.

Your climax hit you gradually, waves of pleasure emanating from your core as he fucked you through it, hard and fast. You rolled your hips against him and raked your fingers down his back.

His orgasm hit as yours was at its peak, and his thrusts grew rougher and more erratic as he filled the condom.

You reached up to wipe the sweat off your brow. Both of you were damp with sweat, his curls disheveled and sticking to his forehead.

“You know, you really look gorgeous like this,” you said.

“You don’t look half bad yourself. Thoroughly fucked is a good look on you,” he teased. “Did I live up to your expectations?”

“Oh yeah,” you responded. “I don’t even remember how many times I’ve cum tonight.”

“Four,” he answered. “I was aiming for five, but we still have time tonight. Maybe an even half dozen would be better.”

“Do you think you could get it up again?” you asked.

“For you? Most definitely.” He grinned.


End file.
